Once You Leave
by cattle list
Summary: If it is true that 'thou mayest,' it is also true that 'thou mayest not.' Angela can't feel her life yet, but she is learning. A boy, a book, a revolution, & James Baldwin. A must read!
1. Angela

Installment One: **Angela**

I could not kiss him. It had never been a problem before. And his face was, like, illuminated by this reflection of sunlight off his car mirror. And it was the first day of summer vacation. And it was a beautiful day. And I _wanted _to kiss him. I think. But maybe I didn't. Maybe the very thought of it repulsed me. I couldn't tell. That kind of scared me.

"Um, so, my sixteenth birthday is on Saturday. Me and Rickie and some other people are going to Vertigo to see a show. So, you know, you could come along if you wanted."

And then he tucked this piece of hair behind his ear. And he didn't respond for the longest time. And I waited for him – like I always did. As if he was tutoring me in patience.

"I don't really know." He moved his eyes away from mine and reached for the ignition. This had always been my cue. My cue to get out.

"Yeah, so I guess it depends on what you're doing Saturday? I mean, like, what else is going on."

He clenched his eyelids shut. I used to think that was irresistible.

"Who's playing anyway?"

"At Vertigo? Just this one band Rickie likes from Pittsburgh. They're, like, acoustic. And, uh, Xanadu."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll pick you up at eight on Saturday." He said it, like, really slowly. Like he was reluctant to spit it out. And then, he did this thing. This thing that he sometimes does that I can tell he doesn't even knows he's doing. He reached towards me and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. That was his cue. His cue to kiss me.

I smiled and unbuckled my seatbelt. "Yeah, it should be a time," I said, "Oh, and you don't have to worry about picking me up, 'cause Corey is actually taking all of us over to Vertigo."

I got out of the car and before I shut the door, I stated, clearly and eloquently, "So I'll see you there, Jordan?"

When I say his name out loud, he _knows _that means I want him to say my name, too.

"Yeah. Maybe," he said, noncommittally. And a few seconds later I noticed he had already driven away.

* * *

So, everyone agrees that Rickie and Corey are like, the cutest couple. They touch a lot, but their touches aren't the kind of touches that claim ownership on the other person. Their touches are like, genuine and true.

"Angela, you look so good!" Rickie said as I climbed into the back seat, "Watching you walk down that driveway, MMM. You're a knockout!"

"Rickie, you exaggerate!" As I buckled, I gave the driver a kiss on the cheek. Corey has these eyes, that like, are so bright blue that you sometimes have to blink when you see them because it's hard not to.

"Angela, are you ready for the best night of your life?" Rickie yelled from the front seat.

I laughed. "Well, that all depends, Rickie."

"Will Jordan be there?" I could see Rickie's face glowing in the rearview mirror.

"I don't know of Jordan's plans." I paused and smiled. "Jordan doesn't _make _plans. Will Rayanne be there?"

Rickie was silent.

"Rickie!" I squealed.

"I mean, she likes the bands that're playing," Rickie said sheepishly.

"Who, Rayanne? God, Rickie, it's not like we hate each other!"

Rayanne and I weren't speaking. We weren't mad, really. It just seemed, like, natural.

"No, I know Angela. It's just, well Rayanne…"

Rickie and Rayanne were still best friends.

Corey interjected with: "May I interject?"

Looking at him, I thought, 'what a sweet, sweet boy.'

"It doesn't even matter. Rayanne isn't coming," Corey continued.

"What? She loves Xanadu." Rickie pointed his scrunched eyebrows at Corey.

"I'm surprised you don't know, _Enrique, _but Rayanne has a gig tonight."

"Rayanne's in a band?" I was a little concerned that this was first I'd heard of it.

"Mmm. A punk band. She can really wail," Corey replied.

"Did you know about this, Rickie?"

Rickie slowly turned his head towards the back seat. "Well, they've only officially been a band for a few days. I didn't know they were already getting gigs."

I crossed my arms and kicked the back of Rickie's seat. "Rickie! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I wasn't so sure it would last. I mean, you know Rayanne. She's always starting things she has no intention of finishing."

I left it at that, although I was hurt that no one had thought to tell me. Maybe they thought they were, like, protecting me. Rickie was being so wonderful through it all – somehow juggling two separate best friends. It's kind of funny the way things turn out. Like how me and Sharon were the best of friends and then grew apart. Rayanne and me didn't grow apart, really. Something happened. Sometimes, something can happen and it can change everything. Take my parents. My mom's in the middle of divorcing my dad. It's a big, long process and it's taking a toll on everyone involved. And it only took one thing happening to ignite this, like mile-long wick that will eventually light the bomb.

My dad betrayed my mom just like Rayanne Graff betrayed me. Forgiveness is not a foreseeable thing in Patty and Graham's future.

I wasn't going to forgive Rayanne or Jordan Catalano – I was going to feed equally on my hatred for both of them. But I have this problem. I love to look at Jordan Catalano _so much. _The need for his face in my sight like, increases when he mumbles apologies at me or when he feels bad or ashamed because of me. He's always looking down like he's nervous when any idiot can see the pure confidence in his eyes. And I can't resist him. It's like, impossible. So, two nights after I found out he'd lied about the letter he'd given me and I'd seen the hurt in Brian Krakow's eyes, I called Jordan and asked him if he'd meet me in the boiler room the next day. Sometimes I think I'm too impulsive.

Rickie told me that Rayanne was really hurt that I chose to forgive Jordan Catalano and not her. Rayanne even left a note in my locker pointing out that she and Jordan were equally at fault. Rayanne doesn't realize that it isn't a choice for me. After it happened, it was painful to look at her, and I felt such a rush when I looked at Jordan. It's not about love. Like, I'm helplessly in love with Jordan, but I loved Rayanne, too. I asked my mom what the difference between the two relationships was and she said, "Sex." I see what she means. It's not like I'm ready to have sex with Jordan Catalano, but there is something inside of me that wants it _so bad. _And now my brain is like a scratched record that's stuck on one line: "Rayanne had sex with Jordan Catalano."

* * *

"This song goes out to Angela Chase. It's Angela's birthday today! Be sure to wish her a happy one before you leave here tonight!" I couldn't help the blush that rose to my cheeks when Tino announced my birthday to the hip, over-18 crowd at Vertigo. Tino and I weren't even great friends, really. I looked over at Rickie accusingly.

He shrugged. "Sorry, Ang! I thought it would be fun!"

I felt like everyone was looking at me – which was ridiculous because the kids at Vertigo didn't _know _or _care _about an Angela Chase. Except, there was this one boy. He had dark, greasy hair and he was wearing sunglasses in the dark. He looked, like, way older than me. When I noticed him coming up to me, I balanced on one leg and looked off into space, pretending I didn't see him.

"Hey, you Angela?" his smile could have, like _passed _as genuine, but I wasn't buying it.

"What? Oh, no. Angela? No. I think I know who you're talking about, though." I began searching the room for Jordan. If I could just locate Jordan, I figured, my night would get better. That Xanadu set, which I had heard like, one hundred times before, was starting to give me a headache. The boy with the greasy hair and glasses was so close to me that every part of his body was touching mine. He started dancing, like, on me. Rickie threw me a concerned glance.

"Rickie!" I yelled above the music, "Rickie, can we please get out of here?!"

Rickie gave me a thumbs up and then left to go find Corey. I pried the boy, who probably wouldn't remember anything tomorrow, from my body and tore out of the building. As I was leaving, Jordan Catalano spotted me. "Angela?" he said it too quietly to be heard, but I saw his lips form the shape of my name. I noticed his eyebrows scrunched in a confused manner before I shut Vertigo's door and was outside in the fresh air. He's always doing that – always showing up to places right before I leave.

* * *

The birthday party didn't end there, though. Rickie, Corey, and I went to the playground by the graveyard so we could swing – it was my idea. Immediately after sitting down on the swings, Corey rolled a joint. See, Corey is a huge pothead. He passed it to me, and I laughed. Rickie smiled. He didn't smoke pot, either. Rickie began pumping his legs and announced that it was a race. Whoever could get the highest first won – no pun intended. I pushed off the ground, and was higher than Rickie in no time.

And then, all of the sudden, Rayanne was there.

As she grabbed the joint from Corey and sat down on the nearest swing, she said, "So are you gonna like, ask me how my gig went, Enrique?"

I abruptly stopped the swing, and just sat there staring at her. It was like she was a ghost – I didn't believe in her.

"_Why _are you here?" I asked, still gaping, "I mean, how did you find us?"

"Don't worry, _Angelica, _I didn't, like, look for you. I smelled you. Or, you know, Corey. Besides, I come here a lot after shows."

"Rayanne, what _shows? _This was, like, your first show," Rickie said, in disbelief as well.

"I, like, know that, Rickie."

I wanted to scream. This was _my _birthday party! She could just, like, _never _let me have Rickie to myself! I put my hands on my head and grabbed handfuls of my hair.

Rayanne looked down at the ground and passed the joint back to Corey. "Can I talk to Angela alone for a second, guys?"

I shook my head fiercely and laughed, "Oh no. No, Rickie. We have nothing to say to each other."

"Please, Rickie?" she frowned and gave him these puppy eyes. He got up and grabbed Corey's hand.

"I'm really sorry, Angela," Rickie said, and he walked back to the car with his boyfriend.

I wanted to follow them _so bad. _I really did. But my body wouldn't move – it was like, too heavy, or whatever. I wanted to look at the ground, but all I could look at was her face. Her eyes were just so, like _guiltless. _

"Happy birthday, Angela," she whispered after a long while.

I wanted to laugh, but I hated her _so much _that I couldn't even do that.

"I really mean it, Angela. You deserve it. You deserve the time of your life. Tonight and every night."

"Rayanne, this is _not _how I wanted my sixteenth birthday to be. This has been a horrible night so far." She really didn't see that she was part of the problem. Possibly even _the _problem.

She was silent after that for awhile. The wind whistled while pushing the empty swings, and I wondered what Corey and Rickie were doing in the car.

"Angela, if you're not gonna forgive me, then at least ditch Catalano. He's terrible in the sack anyway."

I looked closer at her. Her eyes were, like, sparkling. I laughed. "Really?"

She smiled and nodded. For a second I thought, 'You know, Rayanne is going to be okay. Even without me. Even without you.' And then I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

I heard Corey Helfrick's voice calling in the distance. He had thought of something really fun to do, and he wanted tonight to end with a _bang! _I stood up. Wherever it was that we were going, I didn't want Rayanne to come.

"I gotta go. I guess I'll see you around, maybe?" I said, unsure of what I was saying at all.

"Yeah. Yeah, for sure. Later."

Rayanne.

Rayanne in her skimpy black top and cut-off pants. She was going to get cold if she was staying out here all night, and that sounded exactly like something Rayanne would do. I took off my flannel and tossed it to her.

"You're going to get cold if you're gonna stay out here all night," I explained.

"Right."

I decided not to like, linger any longer. And I left her there on the swings, not willing to give out any more of my pity.

* * *

a/n: I don't own anything associated with My So-called Life. And the title of this comes from the Violent Femmes song "Good Feeling." Review, please


	2. Brian

Installment Two: **Brian**

_Every time I go over to Angela Chase's house, right before I'm about to leave, I brush my teeth. Even if I've already done it twice that day, or three times, I do it again. It's like, I don't want her to be offended by my bad breath- like I have this obsession with kissing her. And I do. It's not like it's really my goal when I go see her, but I try to not lose sight of the little hope I have…of kissing her, or whatever._

_Some days, I get so nervous that the corners of my mouth start twitching. Like when I'm looking at myself in the bathroom mirror and fixing my shirt. Or like when I'm practicing, out loud, what I'm gonna say to her. Or like when it's her birthday, and I haven't talked to her since school let out…_

As I was just about to walk out the bathroom door, I was so deep in thought about, like, her _lips, _that I accidently swallowed all the mouth wash I'd been gargling. I knew the label on the bottle had "in case of poisoning" instructions, and I briefly wondered if the mouth wash would kill me. 'Maybe that wouldn't be so bad,' I thought, 'Maybe that's like, what I need.'

As the Chase's front door was opening, I put on my best smile. I was sure – absolutely positive – that Angela would be behind that door, in her party dress, of whatever.

And then, all of the sudden, Danielle as there.

"What do you want?" Danielle whined. But I could sense her smile. She's Angela's little sister and she has this like, _crush _on me.

"Oh, I'm just looking for Angela. I was gonna, you know, wish her a happy birthday, or whatever."

"Angela's gone. But you could still come in if you want." Danielle held the door open for me.

"Wait. What do you mean she's gone? How could she be gone already? It's not even seven."

Danielle shrugged indifferently. "Well, it actually is seven. _Any_way, you just missed her. Are you gonna come in or not?"

"Well, like, what did she _go?"_ I knew I shouldn't be asking. I had the strongest feeling that wherever she w_as _tonight, I wouldn't be there. I also had this like, intuition, or whatever, that she was with Jordan Catalano.

Patty, Angela's mom, walked by behind Danielle and noticed me at the door.

"Oh hi, Brian! Angela's not here right now, but you can still come in if you want."

I noticed the circles under Patty's eyes and the way she pretended to be so happy to see me. Nobody was really that happy to see me. _Ever. _

Danielle's eyes begged me. Begged me to come into the Chase's house and sit awkwardly on their couch on a Saturday night and have nothing to look at because Angela's perfect face wasn't there.

"No thanks, I'll just go home, or whatever. Um, if you see Angela would you tell her I said happy birthday?"

"Will do, Brian," Patty replied, smiling ear-to-ear. "Have a good night."

And with that, I resigned myself to another Saturday night alone in my bedroom with my walkman and T.V. I actually, like, thought, 'Maybe I'll find out what's going on tonight and ride my bike downtown.' But I knew I'd never really do that.

* * *

At eleven o'clock that night, there was a knock at the door. Amazingly, my father was still up. He answered the door in his robe and slippers. I ran downstairs, because I was curious as to who it was. It was _not _who I was expecting. It was _not _who I was hoping.

Rayanne Graff stood half-clothed at my door. Probably drunk. Probably crazy. And my dad, like, _answered _it. It was all too much.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired, racing up behind my father.

Rayanne put on her best fake smile, and tried to look happy to see me. "Krakow!" she called. "It's actually really funny how I ended up here. Can I, like, come in?"

My dad began to open the door wider. I quickly stopped him. "Wait. First tell me why you're here."

Rayanne's shoulders dropped. "I kinda don't have anywhere to go. I mean, like, I would go home, but I can't get a ride there. _So, _I was wondering if you could let me use your phone so I could call Rickie for a ride. I was at that park. That park that's like, down the street. I would go to the Chase's, but as you like, _know, _probably, me and Angela aren't exactly on the best terms."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, can I come in, or….?"

My dad coughed nervously, "Of course, of course," he said.

"Great," Rayanne said, and she bounded into my house. It seems like she's always doing that – showing up at my house for weird reasons that are beyond her control.

My dad looked warily at me.

"Uh," I tried to think of something appropriate to say – I'm really terrible at things like that. "Why don't you come up to my room? You can use the phone there."

Rayanne's fake smile faded. "Okay," she said. I guess she was hoping to make her way to the kitchen, or something.

Bringing Rayanne Graff up to my room is a like _laughable _situation. She called Rickie straight away, and her voice sounded happy when she was on the phone with him, so I assumed he was like, coming to get her or whatever. I sat on my bed and pretended not to be interested in her conversation. Pretended not to seem interested in the fact that she was using me for my phone.

Afterwards she sat next to me on the bed, swinging her legs and laughing.

"Are you high?" I asked, disgusted.

"Me?" she screeched, "Oh, Krakow. You are _so _naïve." She stared out my window at the neighborhood below. Her words kinda stung. I wasn't _that _naïve.

"So what did you do tonight?" she finally asked, "Were you at that Xanadu show or something?"

I sighed. "Is Rickie gonna be picking you up, or whatever?"

She tilted her head sideways, like a dog would. "Yeah. Well, no, Corey's coming to get me. Rickie's at Katimski's, like 'in for the night,' and whatnot."

"Oh."

"So. Did you know _I _played a show tonight?"

I cringed. I didn't want to be talking to her at all, least of all about stuff I didn't know anything about or care for.

"How did that go?"

She quickly nodded. "Awesome. You know Cheyenne and Springfield, right? They're seniors and they, like, go to Liberty. It's our band."

"_Cool._"

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez. Just trying to make conversation." Then she laughed –at me. "You know, Krakow, you're not the easiest person to conversate with."

* * *

When Corey Helfrick burst into my bedroom, Rayanne shouted, "Now it's a party!"

Corey ran and sat down on my bed – uninvited. I hardly even _knew _him.

"Sweet house, Brian. Can you believe I've never been here?" his glazed eyes searched my ceiling for something.

'Yeah, of course I can believe that,' I thought. I didn't dare say it, though. It was silent for awhile, and I just sat there on the bed by Corey, just like, breathing and waiting for Rayanne to leave.

"Hey, can I get something to eat? Is that cool?" Rayanne asked, heading for my bedroom door.

"Wait!" I said, and my voice trailed off.

Rayanne turned back. She made a pouty face and patted me on the head. "We'll be out of your hair in a few minutes, Krakow," she said, "I promise."

I sighed, but before I could say anything more, she was out my door and down the stairs. I looked over at Corey inquisitively. He wasn't paying any attention to me.

He was still staring at my ceiling and he had his arms around his knees, rocking, like _back and forth _on my bed.

"I really mean it, man," he said, "Kick-ass room." I cringed. It was bad enough that I'd been alone with Rayanne, whom I _hardly _knew. But Corey? I didn't really have any idea where he'd come from.

He wasn't talking beyond that, so I coughed and then said, "So were you, like _at _Angela's birthday party tonight? I mean, you and Rayanne?"

In his daze, he looked at me. I noticed his eyes were really blue. "Ah, no, man. Not really."

"Oh. But there was a party…"

"Yeah." He paused, "Yeah, but Rayanne wasn't there. I mean, it wasn't a party. It was like, a – a show. Hey, did you know Rayanne's in a band now?"

I nodded and started playing with a loose thread on my blue bed sheets.

"Well, that's why she wasn't there," Corey continued.

"So was like…" I swallowed, "Jordan there?"

Corey laughed. I wanted to punch him.

"So do you and Jordan, like _fight _over Angela?" he said. Even behind his glasses, I could tell he was like, looking into my soul. He was genuinely curious.

"No. I mean, not exactly." He obviously didn't know about the letter. I knew I shouldn't say it – in fact I already knew what Corey's answer would be – but it slipped out before I could stop it. "If me and Jordan fought over her, I mean, really _fought _for her, who do you think would win?"

Corey's smile made me wonder if he thought I was five years old. He let his knees go and sat cross legged on the bed, preparing for a conversation. I rolled my eyes. It was a simple answer. A simple answer to a _really _stupid question. I regretted it already.

"What is it that you want from Angela?" Corey began.

"Huh?"

"I mean, like, _really _want."

I thought this was really stupid. And I decided not to answer. And then I remembered Rayanne. Where was she?

"It's-," Corey started to say, but I cut him off with, "Shhhhh."

I listened very intently. We both did. Rayanne was downstairs in the kitchen – I heard her. And she was talking to…_my dad. _My Freudian-psychologist-wannabe _doctor_ father. And they were _laughing. _'Oh god, she probably reminds him of one of his cases,' I thought, 'One of the really mental ones. And _I'm _gonna have to hear about it later.'

"Krakow!" Corey was snapping his fingers in my face. Rayanne's loud voice resonated through the ventilation in my house. I shuddered. But I decided the worst had already happened, and the last thing I wanted was to like _embarrass _myself in front of my father. So I decided to wait it out until she came back upstairs to get Corey- to _leave. _I crossed my fingers and prayed that it would be soon.

"So, Brian. Let's figure this out. I think I can help you. Rickie's told me most of it. 'It' meaning…well, you know."

He already knew everything, I was sure now. But Rickie would have told the story – the story of how I had secretly wooed Angela, but she'd ditched me for Catalano anyway – with empathy and tastefulness, or whatever.

"I, uh…" I closed my eyes and decided to just blurt it out before I had time to over-think it, "I just want to kiss her. _So badly._"

Corey pursed his lips and laced his fingers together. It, like reminded me of my father. I turned away.

"C'mon Brian. We all know that's a perfectly reasonable desire."

I shook my head.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Corey half-whispered, as if my answer was going to be too sacrilegious to mention in front of him.

I ground my teeth together. "No. I've never kissed anyone, or whatever. Okay, Corey?" I snapped.

Corey titled his head to show disappointment in me. "It's not that big of a deal. The kissing, I mean. How come you never kissed Delia?"

I laughed. "Delia, like _hates _me."

"That's not what I heard," Corey sang. I _wanted_ to entertain that notion, I really did. I wanted Delia to like me, to have a _crush _on me but I thought, 'It doesn't matter anyway. I'll never see her. School's out, and I don't do anything outside of that. At least anything that I might run into her at.'

"Does it scare you?" Corey asked.

"What?"

"Kissing. I mean, have ever practiced? Are you any good?"

"What are you even talking about?"

Corey smiled. "Well, let me tell you, after dating Jordan for the past three months, Angela's gonna be _pretty _well practiced."

I groaned. "What are you trying to say, Corey? I mean, what do you think I should do about, if you're so smart?" This whole time I was thinking: 'Dad. Dad, tell Rayanne to come upstairs now.' I wondered if any sort of like _telepathy _existed between me and my parents.

Corey shrugged, "I'm the kind of guy who wants to kiss _Jordan, _not Angela. So I guess I wouldn't know either."

"Yeah, but you've like, kissed girls."

"Hmmmm, not really," Corey replied, "More boys."

I looked down at the bed. His self-painted shoes were probably leaving dirt-marks on my comforter.

"I don't know why you're talking to me about this, then. You're the one who said you could help."

Corey shrugged again. He seemed to really like to do that. "You could practice on me."

I looked at him and I'm pretty sure my face resembled Danielle's when she was looking at a plate of Brussels sprouts in front of her.

Corey smiled. "Don't flatter yourself, Brian, I don't have a crush on you," he said, "I just mean, pretend I'm Angela. I can do a pretty good 'girl.' What would you say to me? I mean Angela. What would you say to Angela if you wanted to kiss her? Which you do, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, so go," Corey said, clearing his throat for our little skit.

I looked out the doorway. Nobody was coming. My mom was sleeping, and Rayanne was apparently still busy with my dad in the kitchen. I looked behind me. Nobody was there either. So I looked into Corey's eyes, which looked, like _nothing _like Angela's.

"Angela, I know we haven't talked in awhile. That's my fault. I haven't been over in awhile…It's just that every time I see you with Jordan, it's like, _painful. _And I know that sounds bad. And you can slap me or kick me out if you want to. But the thing is, I just, I just want to tell you that I don't _care _that you're going out with Jordan Catalano-," his whole name was hard to spit out. It tasted like Brussels sprouts on my tongue. "As long as he treats you well. I really don't care. Really. As long as you're happy. It's just…well, I can't stop thinking about your lips. Every day this summer, every day this past year, it's all I've been thinking about…"

I knew she would hate that if I really said it to her. I stopped there. I was breaking out into a sweat.

"Go on," Corey said with a smirk.

I looked into his eyes again, and concentrated really hard. And then, before I could stop myself: "And you're eyes, Angela. They're so beautiful. And I could write volumes of poetry just about those eyes. All for you – and your lips and your eyes."

"Perfect," Corey whispered. He formed his forefinger and thumb in the shape of an O, and then he whispered: "You can practice on me, Brian. I wouldn't tell anyone."

I laughed a little too loudly. "You are crazy!" I said, "Like, certifiable!"

Corey's blue eyes smiled. "I know you want to, you know you want to. You're scared to kiss – and you _know _I'm less of a threat than Angela Chase will ever be to you."

I shook my head in disbelief. I absolutely could _not _believe what was happening. Corey maneuvered himself across the bed, and subsequently whispered into my ear, "Just do it, Brian. It's so much easier than you seem to think it is."

And I think right then he got up to go. Now that I think of it, he probably meant, like, '_Kiss Angela, man. Just do it. First chance you get.' _But for a split-second, I didn't understand. And I turned my head. And before he could stand up, our lips were locked – and his lips were opening slightly. And for some reason, I didn't want to stop as badly as I'd thought I would. He _smelled _like Angela. His tongue moved slightly into my mouth, and I tightened my teeth around it. I could tell he was getting a kick out of this.

And then I heard Rayanne on the stairs. I jumped back from Corey, who just laughed and dusted off my comforter where the dirt was. As Rayanne walked in, holding a whole stalk of celery, Corey was already standing up.

"You know, Krakow, your dad is like, _the coolest._" I couldn't imagine Rayanne thinking my dad was cool, under any circumstance. I think she just has a thing for dads, no matter how lame or unlikeable they really are. "He like, explained to me why you guys didn't have popsicles and why every family should like, keep them out of their houses, and then we talked about addiction and oral fixation, which I already knew a bit about, and then he gave me this huge _plant _of celery! _Huge!_"

I looked down at my floor, more interested in my all-too-noticeable erection than her celery. I didn't speak, and, eventually, they left.

* * *

"_You could practice on me, Brian. I wouldn't tell anyone."_

His words would not leave my head – and it made me, like _bitter. _I thought, yeah, that was easy for _him _to say, but how did he expect me to keep it to myself? It was like it was someone else's dark secret, and I just could not keep it to myself. I _had _to tell someone. I had to repent, or whatever. The following week was unbearable.

I stayed in my room for most of the week, except to go to the bathroom and eat. If I even left my _bedroom _things would be bad – what with having to hear my dad tell me how "cases like your friend Rayanna should really be put away- getting _well," _– let alone leaving my house.

I mean, it's not like I was distressed because I thought I was gay. I know I'm not gay. And it's not like I have a problem with gay people – I get along with Rickie, right? It's just that I knew what I had done- whatever it really was – and kept playing it over and over in my head, but didn't really know what it meant. But I had a feeling that whatever is was, it was a _big deal. _And it's funny; the only person I could think of that could keep my secret was Angela's sister Danielle. She was the only person I knew of that really _liked _me. And if you really _like _somebody, then you don't want them mad at you – therefore, you don't, like tell their most dark secrets. Right?

It was the best idea I could come up with, and after a week and a half alone in my room (alone in my _head_) I thought my brain was going to explode. I got dressed and brushed my teeth – just out of habit. I was pretty sure I'd seen Jordan's red car in the Chase's drive way, so I assumed that Angela would not be home. Ironically, this situation seemed like the _perfect _time to go to my neighbors'. It had never happened like that before.

But it seems like every time I have something figured out, fate hurls a new problem at me. And when I have problems like this – I mean _big _problems, I have to set them up like equations and solve them like math in my head. Anyway, I imagine that other people find it easier to solve problems like mine – people that have different lives and different perceptions of _problems. _

To my complete, like _horror, _Angela Chase opened the door. The same door that Danielle was supposed to open. The same house that I was supposed to be invited into. The same place that I had planned to spill my guts. I was crushed. My brain began to recalculate.

"What do you want, Krakow?" Angela asked with a sigh, leaning against the door frame, "I'm, like in the middle of something right now."

"Oh, you're home. Oh," I laughed nervously, "See, I wasn't expecting you to be home."

Angela scrunched her eyebrows, "If you didn't think I would be here, then why did you come over?"

'_Think of something appropriate to say, Brian!' _my brain screamed to me, '_Don't look like a total dork!'_

"I, uh – um."

"C'mon, what is it, Krakow?"

"Angela, I have something to tell you," I said it so fast that at first I wasn't sure if she'd heard.

But she just shrugged and said, "Okay. Tell me."

"It's – well, it's pretty big. It might take me awhile to explain."

"So I guess you want to come in…?"

"Well. Yeah."

Angela rolled her eyes and then stepped out of the way so I could come in. She walked over to the couch where, it was clear to me now, she had been sewing before. I studied the scene. It appeared that she had been busy sewing a patch on a rip in her dress. It's this plaid red dress that she has. I think it's like, her favorite.

"Is Danielle home?" I asked while Angela sat down on couch and busied herself with the sewing needle again.

"Uh-uh," she replied.

"Is your mom home?"

"Yeah. I think she's upstairs taking a nap."

I eyed the house suspiciously, as if the house itself was listening.

"Have a seat, then," Angela said.

I did as I was told. I sat down on the end of the couch with by body facing Angela's. She looked up from her sewing and scowled. "So, what is it you had to tell me?"

I was really close to her lips and I wanted nothing more than to take her head gently in my hands and tell her about her lips over and over and over. And then talk about her eyes – making her fall in love with me. And then, finally, kiss her.

"Can you keep a secret?"

She looked up and smiled, all the sudden interested. "Yeah."

"I mean, like, a _really _big secret."

"Yeah, sure. I keep secrets of all sizes."

"Can I whisper it in your ear?"

She got all flustered and tucked her hair behind her ear. "That's kinda ridiculous, Brian. _Nobody _is here. I mean-,"

Before she could finish, I stated, clearly, "I kissed Corey Helfrick."

Her face, like, got bigger. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth widened. And then she was laughing. And then she wasn't. And then she was apologizing and then she was asking: "Brian, why are you telling me this?"

I wanted to cry. I couldn't even imagine how red my face was. "I'm sorry!" I shouted, "I _had _to tell someone. I just did. The secret was killing me. And just so you know, you weren't my first choice of person to tell. I just _had _to tell you because you're the only one, right now, who will _listen._"

She put her hand over her mouth. She was trying to hide her amazement, but some of it slipped through the cracks.

"So did you enjoy it?"

"No. What? No! Of course I didn't enjoy it."

"Who kissed who?"

"_He _kissed me."

"So I guess Rickie doesn't know."

"No, and I don't want him to know…Please Angela-,"

"God, Krakow, it's not like I would want to be the one to tell Rickie."

"But you can't tell _anyone. _No one. I mean, really. Not Sharon or Rayanne or Jordan…I mean, not that you would want to," I paused and swallowed, "Tell those people, or whatever, but I just mean that _nobody _can know except me and you, okay?"

"And Corey," Angela said with a chuckle.

I glared at her. "This isn't weird, right? It happens every day, right?"

Angela put her sewing down and leaned towards me. "You worry too much, Brian," she said.

* * *

a/n: if you've read this, please review. Hopefully the next update will be up soon.


	3. Sharon

Installment Three: **Sharon**

I shouldn't have even asked my mother where she was going. She's always – like _always _– going over to the Chases'. Not that I resent it or anything; I think it's good that she's helping Patty get through the divorce.

"I'm off, honey. Will you be here when I get home tonight?" then she – you know, Camille – laughed. "Why am I even asking? You're always with Kyle aren't you?"

I frowned. "Mom, Kyle's in Florida with his family this week. And anyway, I'm not _always _with him."

My mother was in a hurry. She grabbed her purse off the counter and while she kissed me on the cheek, she said: "Honey, it wouldn't be a problem if you were. Kyle's a good kid."

"Yeah, but, Mom, I'm _not. _Anyway I'm probably gonna, like, break if off with him soon. Maybe after summer."

Camille frowned at my statement but didn't comment.

"Listen, I'm already late to Patty's. You're okay here alone? Your father's at the office 'til five and I'll be back some time tonight."

I sighed. "Whatever." Sometimes I think she hears me, but she doesn't really _hear _me. As she was leaving out the front door I called: "Even if Kyle was here, I already made plans!" The door clicked shut.

I bit my lip and thought, '_Why do I always have to, like, defend myself about how much time I spend with Kyle?' _ I mean, it's really not as if he's my _only _friend, like my mother acts like he is. I have other friends besides him. I _do _have a life outside of Kyle. Just maybe not yet this summer…

I ran out the front door after my mother. She saw me as she was sliding out of the driveway and rolled down her window. "What is it, Sharon?" she called.

"Um, I kinda forgot. I made plans with Brian Krakow today and he doesn't exactly have, like, transportation, so I was thinking I could get a ride with you over to his house."

She sighed, already late, like she'd told me. "Get in," she said, putting the car in park.

I looked down at my bare feet on the asphalt. My toenails were painted blue with sparkles. I hadn't technically _made _plans with Krakow, but he was best person I could think of to talk to since he never went anywhere. Delia is like, one of my very good friends, but before school even let out she'd picked up extra hours at work, so every time I'd called her she'd been too busy to hang out.

"Put a nickel in it, Sharon!" my mom yelled from the car.

I ran in the house and grabbed my tennis shoes. They were dangling from my hands as I got in the back seat. As she backed out my mom pretended not to be looking at me in the rearview mirror, but I knew she was.

"Look, I'm sorry if I've been grumpy lately," she said after a prolonged and unnecessary silence.

I scowled at the back of the headrest and crossed my arms, hardly believing her.

"I'm serious, honey. And I know Patty is demanding a lot from me, but I want you to know that if you ever need an ear to talk about things like relationships and, you know, Kyle or anything else, you can always count on me."

I made a humming noise and then spit out a "whatever," letting her think that I had a number of different teenage issues, like she clearly wanted to believe. When she parked in the Chase's driveway, I immediately ran to Krakow's front door, not even bothering with shoes.

Mrs. Krakow answered.

"Yes, what is it?" Brian's mother asked. She, along with my mother, always seemed to be in a rush.

"I'm a friend of Brian's," I explained, like, positive that she had met me before. "Is he busy today?"

She glanced down at my bare feet and coughed a little. "He isn't home right now," she replied.

'That's impossible,' I thought, 'Brian Krakow, like _never _comes out of his room.'

"But," Mrs. Krakow continued, "If you're really interested in finding him, I would lay my best guesses on him presently being there," she pointed to the Chase's house. I followed her finger and laid my eyes on my mother's van. Of course he'd be at Angela's. Where else besides school had I ever seen him?

I smiled at Mrs. Krakow, "Well, I wouldn't say I'm like, _looking _for him, but I was going to hang out with Angela Chase today anyway."

She smiled at my inappropriate justification. I mumbled an apology/thank you and subsequently ran into the Chase's house without knocking.

I was surprised to find a wide-spaced circle of people in the living room. Angela was on the side closest to her mother, who was holding a laundry basket. And my mother was kind of in the middle, the look on her face indicating that she had walked in at the wrong time. Krakow was standing opposite the women, and tears _weren't _streaming down his face, but they may as well have been. I sensed extreme tension, and no one seemed to realize that I had entered, so I set my shoes down silently on the welcome mat and walked to the brink of the living room to listen. Or like, eavesdrop.

"You told her?" Krakow yelled, his voice shaking.

"Brian, what's the big deal? Nothing's going to happen to you! And no one's opinion of you has changed." Angela's tone matched his, but I could tell she was trying to calm him down.

Krakow laughed. "The _big deal_? The big deal, Chase? We agreed that no one besides us would know! You've completely, like, humiliated me in front of your whole…family. And like, that way your mom looked at me suspiciously when I came over – that's never going to change. It's never going to change because you can't unsay what you said. You told your mother my most personal secret!"

Patty opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Angela clenched her fists.

"I was trying to help you, Brian! I was worried about you!"

"_You _were worried about _me_? Christ, Chase, what did you even tell her? It's not like I was suicidal."

I looked over at Patty Chase again. She just seemed flabbergasted.

Angela took a deep breath. "I- I just said that - ," she began, but Brian stopped her by putting his hand up. "No. Don't repeat it, Angela, please," he said, his voice lowering and his eyes welling up, "I'm just gonna leave before I make more of a fool out of myself, and I'm never going to come back, because, let's face it, you've never really wanted me around and I don't want to risk telling you anything, like, moderately personal about me ever again." He turned to leave and then spotted me. "Great," he muttered, "Now even more people can gossip at my expense." The way his eyebrows were scrunched together at the time made him look broken. I had no idea what was going on, but I pitied him all the same.

As if on a second thought, just before he left, Krakow turned back to the people in the living room, who hadn't moved. "Except this," he said, loud and clear, picking up where he'd left off, "The only reason I ever even considered doing what I did was because of you, Angela."

Angela, who was clearly surprised but not willing to miss a beat, replied, "It's not like you have to justify yourself."

With that, Brian left, and I got the feeling that his exit would've had a much deeper effect on his audience if he hadn't looked so pitiful and pathetic while he made it.

Everything was still and quiet in the living room for about a minute. Cautiously, I sucked in my breath and walked in while saying, "So what was that all about?"

Angela shook her head. "Oh no," she said, almost laughing, "I'm not going into it."

My mother tip-toed over to a still shocked Patty and took the laundry basket out of her hands. "Let me help you with these, Patty." My mother was no doubt planning to get the Krakow dirt out of Ms. Chase.

I bit my lip and said sheepishly, "So, Angela, would this be a bad time to ask to hang out?"

Angela crossed her arms and appeared to be deep in thought. She _had _to be surprised by my offer; we hadn't technically "hung out" in like, ages.

Finally, after Patty and Camille had retreated to Patty's bedroom, chatting all the while, Angela said, "Yeah, sure. Does coffee sound good?"

Going out for coffee sounded awfully grown up for me, let alone Angela Chase, but I nodded and put my shoes on.

* * *

We walked out of Angela's subdivision and I asked her about Krakow. She seemed flustered.

"It was like him, Brian, trusting me with the biggest secret of his like, sheltered teenage life and I only told my mother because I thought she would have good advice. I mean it's not like Brian Krakow would ever ask an adult for advice on something that was really bothering him."

"How big of a secret are we talking?"

Angela sighed. "It's really not a big deal, but he's like, freaking out. Anyways, can we talk about something else?"

I could tell she was really trying not to break her promise to Brian…again.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about? It seems like we haven't talked in forever."

And then for a while the only sound was our shoes hitting the pavement. Downtown was about a mile away, so I was hoping I hadn't made, like, a mistake, asking Angela to hang out and all.

Eventually, she sighed and looked up at the sky. "It's just so refreshing to be talking to you. I don't mean this to sound bad or selfish or anything, but ever since Rayanne and I stopped talking, I don't really have any girlfriends, unless you count Rickie."

I smiled. "Right."

"And there's just, like, certain things that you can only talk about with your girlfriends."

I bit my cheek and looked sideways at her. "What do you want to talk about, Angela?"

"I was actually wondering, you know, how you and Kyle are doing."

"Well, me and Kyle are just – the same as always, I guess. I'm not in love with him or anything, but he can be, like, relentless or whatever, and I'll probably break up with him a few more times before we really – _actually –_ break up. Because, you know, I always end up sleeping with him."

Angela smiled. "You're _clearly _not having the same problems I am."

I shrugged. "Well, what is it? Girlfriends always have the best advice whether they have the same problems or not."

Angela sighed, preparing to be brutally honest. "It's like, some days I'm infatuated with Jordan, and some days I'm not. But I still feel like I need him, but it's – some days I just don't want to _talk _to him. Like, I don't even want his company any more, but I want to, you know, _do it_, with him more than ever. And I'm so afraid it's because I'm bored."

'This one is easy,' I thought. "It's perfectly okay to be bored with Jordan Catalano, Angela. Even if you never thought, like in million years, that you ever would be."

"But do you think that's really the problem? I mean, he's still kind of the reason I get up every day, but I think it's, like, for different reasons."

"Situations are really whatever you want them to be – like you can create situations in your head that never even happened. That's what I've learned." Angela was silent, so I continued: "If you feel like you're ready to go all the way with Jordan, then go for it, but do it because you're confident and _ready, _not because you're bored."

"But maybe I'm _not _bored. Maybe I'm just afraid that _he's _bored. I mean he has a really short attention span."

I laughed. "Now there's another wrong reason to do it. Ang, you just really need to look –," I was really ready for a philosophical discussion on the right reasons and wrong reasons for sex (it's one of my favorite topics) but I was interrupted by a deep, loud yelling…

"Your government will _not _protect you!" the voice boomed. I looked over at Angela. We had made it downtown and were nearing Front Street. Angela wasn't interested in me anymore. Her curious expression was aimed at the street corner the noise appeared to be coming from. A square, brick building blocked our view of who was making the noise. She began walking faster.

"You think you have freedoms but your government slyly takes those freedoms away and tells you it's for your own good, and you believe it! Soon there will be no more freedoms! The people you elect into office are _not _looking out for your best interest. This calls for anarchy, anarchy! We must take to the streets and tell the politicians – the White, Rich, Christian Males - that we will not stand for it anymore!"

Angela and I ran smack dab into the middle of a man on a soapbox yelling into a megaphone. He stopped yelling when he saw us, accidentally so close to him, appearing to be in such a rush.

He slowly let the megaphone down from his lips and looked at us in shock, as if he was a dangerous animal and he hadn't expected anyone to, like, have the guts to get so close.

Angela was all flustered. She blushed and tried to laugh it off. "Hello, sir," she said with a smile, I guess hoping he would laugh, too.

"Ma'am," he replied. Looking at him, I thought he couldn't be more than 18. He had brown skin and a huge afro. His eyes were covered by sunglasses so dark that nothing was reflected off of them.

"So, um, we were just seeking out the, the uh – seeing what all the yelling was about." Angela was balanced on one leg and looking down at the ground. I could tell she regretted being so curious and walking so fast around the corner. I think we both felt that something big was going on that we weren't really "in" on.

The guy with the megaphone was silent. Angela chuckled nervously again. "Did something, like, happen recently that made you want to say…stuff?"

The guy set his megaphone down on the ground and shook his head slowly. "Man, nothing specific's gotta _happen _for me to say what's on my mind. I mean, think about it, it's happening every day."

Angela tugged at her sleeve. "What's happening every day?" I asked, to save her from having to speak again.

"_It's _happening every day," he said, "The government's fucking us over again and again. I figure, I ain't in school, I got nothing better to do, why shouldn't I exercise this right I still have and get out and _tell _the people. 'Cause, let's face it, people are too distracted now'days to understand."

My face twisted. "I don't get it."

I hoped what I'd said hadn't sounded rude, but the man just chuckled and pointed across the street to what appeared to be a telephone pole. "It's for my friend's Performance Art course, he's over there filming the reactions we get." The man had a great, and very convincing smile.

But I, unlike Angela, was quite offended, and my face must have showed it.

"Don't worry, sister," the man said before I could say anything, "We won't use you in the final video unless we have your official permission."

With that, the man stepped down off the soapbox and shook my hand, and then Angela's.

Angela scrunched her eyebrows together and asked: "What was the assignment exactly?"

The man laughed again, "Well, my friend goes to the Alternative High School and it seems that the assignments they give are kind of vague, but the jist of it is: take something you believe in, that you're passionate about, and figure out some way to help others or, I guess, like spread your message, to the people _that matter most. _And then present a video of it – it being whatever it is you did."

Angela was smiling. "It sounds like a fun assignment."

I looked over at the telephone pole again and, for the first time, noticed a stick-thin boy standing behind it with a camcorder. The man with the afro waved his friend over, and the friend began packing up the tripod.

"It's been fun so far," said the man with afro, "But I think it's 'bout time we had a lunch break."

"How long have you guys been out here?" Angela inquired. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and tried to illustrate my restlessness to Angela by looking in all directions and checking the time every fraction of a second.

The man, too, looked at his watch, to like, adequately, answer Angela's question. But it was taking him awhile to figure in his head and before he said anything, Angela jumped in again.

"By the way, I'm Angela and this is my friend Sharon."

The man looked up from his watch and took off his sunglasses. "My name's Justice, and my friend is called Elia."

The friend, Elia, had managed to avoid traffic on the downtown street and was now standing behind Justice. I looked down nervously and happened to notice that our new acquaintance Justice was wearing sandals that seemed to be tied to his coffee-colored feet with rope.

"Do you go to the Alternative High School too, Justice?" Angela asked, shifting her weight. She now seemed completely at ease.

Justice promptly put his shades back on and shook his head. "I'm past that age."

When Angela's face showed confusion, Justice explained: "I earned my diploma. But my mother wouldn't have let me step foot in the Alternative. Well, I mean, I've been in there, but it's not where I went to school."

It amazed me that Justice could read Angela's face just minutes after meeting her. Angela has some really interesting facial expressions and the only reason I could ever tell how she was feeling was because I'd been friends with her since we were very small.

"So what's the verdict?" the friend, Elia, piped in, "Can we put you two in our video?"

Angela smiled and chewed on her cheek. "I don't know," she said teasingly, "Do you really think we're the people that matter most?"

I sighed. Maybe these were the kind of games she played when she went downtown with Rayanne, but I was ready for some coffee and chit-chat already.

"If you believe you matter, then you matter," Justice said with a firm nod.

"Well then, I say count me in," Angela said, her face brightening up. "Right Sharon?"

I looked around and spotted the Front St. Coffee House. "Right," I said. Justice opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Angela and I were going to go get some coffee. Do you want to join us or are you too busy with your project?"

I looked over at Angela to see if I had crossed any boundaries. Justice and Elia seemed interesting, and I was really ready for some coffee – I didn't want to spend all afternoon standing awkwardly on a street corner. But Angela just looked at Justice and smiled. And Justice looked at Elia, and Elia shrugged. As we walked the short distance to the coffee shop, I wondered if this was how people normally made friends.

Angela, who acted like she'd forgotten I was there, looked up at Justice and asked: "So are you an anarchist?"

I thought the questions sounded awfully naïve, but Justice just smiled and answered: "I do consider myself one, yes."

"That is _so _interesting. And so do you, follow any – well, no, I guess the point of anarchism is that you don't have leaders, right? So you don't vote, I suppose. How old _are _you anyway?"

Justice laughed. "You're very curious, aren't you Angela?"

'She's not usually this curious,' I wanted to mumble, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

"And you're very cute," Justice said with a wink as he held the door for everyone. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed Angela's deep blush.

Once we had all ordered our coffees (cappuccino for me, house blend with cream and sugar for Angela) and had situated ourselves at an appropriate table, I looked Justice straight in the eyes and said, "So, you never, like, answered. How old _are _you?"

Justice coughed and then crossed his legs. "I'm nineteen," he answered, and then he smiled.

"Really?" I asked, more curiously then accusingly.

He reached under the table to retrieve his tattered black backpack that he'd been carrying around. He set the backpack gently on the table and took his leather wallet out. He took out an ID and showed it to me. "Yeah, really," he said with a laugh.

Angela wasn't paying attention to what either of us was saying. She pointed mindlessly into Justice's backpack while he was returning his wallet to it.

"What's that?" Angela asked, "That book?"

Justice quickly grabbed the slim, faded paperback that Angela had referred and then dropped his backpack on the ground.

"This," he explained, opening the book to page one, "Is an essay by a Russian theorist. An…anarchist."

I noticed Elia leaning over the table to see the book. I too leaned over the table a bit to get a glimpse. The book was called God and the State. 

"Is it any good?" Angela asked.

Justice closed the book and crossed his legs again. He shrugged. "Well, I dunno. I haven't read it yet. It's supposed to be a really great argument against organized religion." He paused. "That's what it's _supposed _to be about."

Angela smirked. "So, I guess since you haven't read it yet you won't let me borrow it?"

Later, when I reprimanded Angela for her statement, she just laughed and said, "God, Sharon, I'm _curious_ about it! I mean, it's a very curious thing!"

But now, as we were drinking our coffees and smiling at each other, Angela decided notto scoff at _Justice_ and explain to _him_ the magnitude of her curiosity. Instead she asked: "Can I borrow it when you're finished?"

Justice began tilting his chair backwards. He shook his head. "Elia always gets the books right after I'm done." He leaned in to sip his coffee and then leaned back again with a simple, "Sorry."

Elia had been very quiet this whole time, but he finally spoke up. "That's right," he said.

"But," Justice began, and then he activated what I assumed would be a short pause. It wasn't.

Angela crossed her arms in the silence and ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth. She does that sometimes when she's frustrated because no one will tell her what's going on. Evidently, Justice noticed this.

"But if you're really in need of a good book," he started again, after what must have been a full minute, "Which I can tell you are, then I'll let you borrow the other one I got in my bag."

"What's that?" Angela asked.

Justice smoothly brought the pack on the table again and took from it a slightly bigger but no less worn paperback.

"It's one of my favorites," Justice explained, "And for some reason I only have one copy, so I'll need it back."

Angela grabbed the book and immediately turned to the back cover.

"It's one of James Baldwin's best," Justice said. Elia nodded in agreement.

I peeked over at Angela's lap. Giovanni's Room, it was called.

"What's it about exactly?" Angela asked, flipping the book over and then over again.

"Well, if you know anything about James Baldwin, you know he was black and gay. It's very hard to be either of those, but in combination…" Justice paused, "But anyway, it's not really about that. It's a story. About this man. And it's really interesting because Baldwin – that is, James Baldwin – is tellin' it from a white man's perspective."

Angela kept staring at the book. She seemed unsure about something.

"I'll bet you'll like it, Angela," Justice said.

Angela looked up and grinned, "I bet I will, too," she said.

* * *

A/n: Sorry this update took so long, I re-worked it A LOT, if you can believe that. Also, hellooo, is anybody out there? I'm in desperate need of some sort of response to this story.


	4. Angela:

Installment Four: **Angela**

I watched Sharon Cherski's mom's van pull out of my driveway as I knocked on Brian Krakow's door. My heart sank a little when I thought about how I probably wouldn't hang out with her again for a few weeks. Cherski is really a good person to have around when I'm confused about, like, sex and stuff.

"Yes?"

Krakow's mom was at the door. All of the sudden I didn't know what to say. I didn't really know why I was at Krakow's door – just that I had to be there. I clutched my bag closer to my shoulder.

"Is, uh, is Brian home by any chance?"

"Just a moment, sweetie, I'll go and get him."

She didn't invite me in. I stood awkwardly on the porch step gazing past the open front door. But it wasn't long before Brian was there, and he didn't look surprised to see me. His mother must have told him who was at the door.

"Chase," was all he said.

I sighed. I thought I might cry. I felt as if I should have come like, prepared. I thought of Giovanni's Room resting in my bag, and of Justice and of the way he had looked at me and how special the book seemed to be to him.

Finally, I looked Brian right in the eyes and said, "Look, Krakow, I'm sorry."

It hadn't come out as genuine as I'd hoped, so I tried again, "You have, like, no idea how sorry I am. You really don't."

Brian stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything, he just sighed and looked out towards the sky.

"Do you believe me?" I asked.

"I want to, Chase. But it's like, I can't just forgive you all that fast. And then, like, at the same time, I can't help it…" his voice trailed off. It was true, what he was saying. Just hours before he had stormed out of my house saying he would never speak to me again and now he was actually thinking of _forgiving _me. It occurred to me that I could've at least given him another day.

"I understand, Krakow."

He laughed, "No, you really, really don't."

I scowled at him without meaning to. He's always saying stuff like that – stuff that just totally _ruins _the conversation.

"Brian, I know _exactly _what you're talking about. Did it ever occur to you that I was hurt and lied to by Jordan Catalano and I'm _still _going out with him?"

Brian squinted his eyes. "Of _course_," he said. I was like, exasperated. "Of course this all comes back to Jordan Catalano."

I sighed. "Look, okay, I've never actually been in the same situation that you're in, so I guess I _don't _know how it feels. And I'm sorry for doing this to you. It was unfair and I'm, like a terrible person. A _complete _liar."

"Why do you want me to forgive you so bad, Chase? It's not like you ever talk to me anyway. Do you want something from me, or is this just to clear your own conscience?"

I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to come up with an intelligent, quick response. I hadn't yet, like, identified why I was here and why I was practically willing to beg Krakow's forgiveness.

"Because," I said, struggling and holding out the word to buy more time. "Because, it's just the right thing to do."

"Look Chase, the important thing is that no one else finds out," Brian replied quickly, looking around the neighborhood as if he got the feeling someone was watching.

"So do you, like, forgive me then?" I asked.

Brian looked me square in the eyes now and just said, "Just make sure nobody else finds out, can you do that?"

"Sure. Yeah. Yeah, why would anybody else have to find out? _No one _with find out." I laughed nervously.

"Okay then," Brian said, and then he just stood there because Brian Krakow is no pro at ending conversations.

"Well I'll uh, see you around. And please, don't be a stranger around the house – I get the feeling Danielle really likes you," I winked at him and walked back to my side of the street. I could feel his eyes watching me go. I wondered briefly about what he'd meant when he said that the only reason he'd kissed Corey was because of me.

But then I was in my own house and my mom was sitting on the couch. Sitting like she'd been waiting for me to walk in the door.

"Dad's coming over for a visit tomorrow," she said.

I scrunched my eyebrows as I set my bag down.

"Not _m_y dad," my mother said quickly, realizing her potential mistake, "Your dad. Graham."

'As if I don't know my own father's name,' I thought, but I just said, "Oh."

My mother pursed her lips and looked at me. "I'm just making sure you'll be here for dinner. You will be here for dinner, right?"

All of the sudden, a wave of, like, grief and shame washed over me. My mother was just _so _afraid of being alone. 'Your mother hasn't been without her husband in twenty years,' I thought to myself, 'She's just _got _to be scared. The least you could do is be more supportive.'

I walked over to the couch and sat down beside my now fragile mother. Over the past few months she'd gone through changes that even I, her loyal daughter, could never have predicted.

I put my arm around her shoulders and said, "Of course I'll be there, Mom. Wouldn't miss it for the world," in my most reassuring voice.

I couldn't see her face, like, directly, but I imagine she cracked a thin smile and closed her eyes euphorically for a second. Really, it was the _least _I could do.

* * *

That night I sat at my desk and cracked open Giovanni's Room. I read only to page four and then I closed the small book. The last sentence I had read ("…for nothing is more unbearable, once one has it, than freedom.") played over and over in my head. I applied it to my summer vacation and it rang truer than ever. Graham was coming over tomorrow night. I hadn't seen Graham in a week at least. The feeling of not seeing my father everyday was quite unusual. He'd told Danielle and I that once he got totally settled in his new apartment we were going to stay with him every other weekend. I was still deciding how I felt about it.

I sighed and double-checked the year the book had been published. _1956. _'It must have been _so _controversial in its time,' I thought, 'Probably still is.'

Why wasn't I reading it more? Why couldn't I pay attention to it for more than four pages? It was certainly well written, from what I had seen. But I was worried. I was worried that once I returned the short novel to Justice I would have no reason to ever see him again. Why was I so worried about that? Did I have a crush on Justice? Should I tell Jordan Catalano? No, definitely not, Justice and I weren't even _friends. _Yet. Would we ever be friends? Did the fact that Justice handed me this book mean he was trying to tell me he was gay? Was that stereotypical to think he might be gay just because he'd read a book with a gay protagonist? All these questions swirled through my head.

I briefly wondered if Brian Krakow was gay. He was obviously _scared _of being gay. Maybe he thought he was gay. Or maybe he just didn't want anybody to find out – that he'd kissed Corey, not that he was gay. Yeah, that made perfect sense. Brian Krakow wasn't gay – he couldn't be gay. What Brian Krakow was _terrified. _And ashamed probably.

I picked up Giovanni's Room again. As much as I didn't want to give the book back to my mysterious Justice, I also didn't want him to think I was a slow reader. Maybe he didn't like slow readers.

* * *

"Could you pass the potatoes, sweetie?" Graham was looking at me and _smiling. _And Patty was acting like everything was normal.

I passed my father the bowl of mashed potatoes, refusing to smile.

"So, what have you been up to lately, Ang?" Graham asked as he slopped potatoes onto his plate, "How's Jordan?"

I looked away from him as I talked. I just _couldn't _look him in the eyes. "He's – he's good. We're good."

Graham nodded and everything was silent for a while. I could hear Patty chewing and I wondered if I was the only one.

"And Danielle?" Graham finally said, "How are you? Has your summer vacation been great so far?"

Danielle rolled her eyes, "_Dad, _you asked me that like two days ago. Everything's fine. Summer is, like, good."

Graham maintained his smile and nodded. Patty coughed. She looked at me and her own smile lit up.

"So, Angela, you were at Brian Krakow's house yesterday," I could tell it wasn't a question, "What did he have to say?"

I stayed silent. Graham scrunched his eyebrows together. I could see how he would be confused. My mother had never before cared what Brian Krakow had to say.

My mother quickly offered an explanation, "Brian was really angry at Angela the other day. He made _quite _the scene in the living room."

Graham finished chewing. "Really? What was Brian so worked up about?"

"Well, it turns out that Angela…" Patty began. They were both making me furious.

"Mom!" I interrupted, "Please do not tell him that!"

Patty gave me a surprised look. "Well, Angela, honestly, I wasn't going to tell him _that._"

"Uhhh!" I exaggerated my sigh.

"Wait, why I am I not allowed to know why Brian…." Graham's voice trailed off.

"It has _nothing _to do with you, Dad. I don't even know why we're talking about it. We shouldn't be talking about it! And anyway, I apologized to Brian Krakow yesterday. He's not even mad. Really, Mom, he wasn't _that _mad."

Patty and Graham were both silent. I stopped eating and sat back in my chair with my arms crossed. When Patty started to clear the table, she took my full plate with her to the kitchen. Graham followed her. As if that gave them, like, _any _privacy. As if Danielle and I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying.

"So how's Hailie?"

"What? Patty, what did you tell those girls?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't tell them anything. No, really, how is she?"

"It is _so _clear that they hate my guts. What did you tell them about me? What did you tell Angela I did?"

Patty laughed. "I am not _corrupting _our children. For God's sake, Graham."

Graham sighed. "They won't even _look _at me Patty. They talk to me like I'm some – some stranger! That is if they talk to me at all."

"Well, if that's how you feel then I can't…I can't offer you an explanation."

Danielle looked at me warily across the dinner table.

"You know Mom told me all about it. Why Brian Krakow was so mad," Danielle said suddenly.

"Danielle…" I rolled my eyes.

My little sister has this way of pursing her lips that totally reminds me of my mom.

"Well she did."

"Really, that's great. Just don't go spreading the word around town."

"I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, I'm four years younger than him, and I've already kissed two boys."

* * *

Rayanne was tilting her head to the side like she does sometimes. "Rickie found out," she told me.

I scrunched my eyebrows together, "What are you talking about, Rayanne? I mean, honestly…"

She cut me off. "About Brian Krakow. About _Corey _and Brian Krakow. He found out."

I think right then, for a few seconds at least, my heart stopped. I wondered how I'd gotten myself into this situation. No, not the situation, just this room. Why was I here? Why was I talking to Rayanne Graff? We didn't talk anymore. Why did she know something about Rickie before I knew it? More importantly, what exactly was she trying to say?

It seemed so much like de-ja-vu. Rayanne and I – being in the girl's bathroom together, just like the old days that were not so long ago. Except, we weren't at Liberty High, and we weren't best friends. We certainly didn't tell each other everything like we used to. So why was she telling me this?

"But Rickie knows the situation, right? I mean, he like, _knows _why it happened?" My eyes pleaded Rayanne for a straight answer.

Rayanne looked in the bathroom mirror and outlined her red lips with her pinky finger.

"From what I heard, Rickie was really upset. He's not just talking breaking up with Corey, he's talking moving away."

I was stunned. "But he knows that it was nothing right? Brian Krakow isn't even _gay_! What, does he think Corey, like _cheated _on him or something?"

"You know how Rickie is, Angelique-uh." And then Rayanne turned to me and her face was like it was no big deal. Like this kind of stuff happened every day. Like I was still her best friend and her shadow and we always ran into each other at bookstores and she always followed me into the restrooms. Like Rickie was always threatening to move. Like our normal lives were always on the verge of being changed forever.

"No, Rayanne, apparently I _don't _know how Rickie is. What do you mean moving away? When? How could he?"

Rayanne raised her eyebrows. "Well, you like _know _that Mr. Katimski doesn't have a job at Liberty anymore. Him and his boyfriend are moving to New York after the summer, and they, like, invited Rickie to come with. Katismki's gonna like, not make him pay for rent or whatever and try to help him get into a good college out there. I mean, I can see the attraction. But trust me, Angela, he'll never go through with it."

I couldn't tell if there was fear in Rayanne's voice. She's really good at hiding stuff.

"I can't believe Rickie even cares about that stupid kiss! I mean, he can't be, like, _threatened _by Brian Krakow. How did he find out anyway?"

This is when Rayanne really looked deep into my eyes. Her glare was almost like death.

"Well, evidently, like, Sharon's mom knew. And then told Sharon. Sharon told, like, all her friends. And then you know that girl Delia? Yeah, she ended up, like, spilling the beans to Rickie like it was no big deal. Like the fact that Brian and Corey made out was, like, common knowledge."

I was so surprised and outraged I didn't even know what to say. "Okay, first of all, they – they," I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes, "They didn't even make out! They, like, kissed because Brian has this creepy obsession with kissing and he's, like, never kissed a girl. A girl! Brian Krakow totally just wants to kiss girls! Corey is an innocent bystander. So is Krakow, in my humble opinion. I can't believe this. I mean, really, it's being blown way out of proportion."

It was silent for a while. I still hadn't taken it all in. It still hadn't occurred to me _how _Sharon Cherski's mom had found out.

"So, do you, like, blame me or something?" I said after what seemed like an eternity.

Rayanne pursed her lips. "Now, it would just be wrong of me to blame you for anything."

I crossed my arms. I wished I could give Rayanne a hug at that moment. That I could reassure her that Rickie wasn't going to go anywhere. Instead, I just sighed and started pacing back and forth on the small bathroom floor.

"I just need to talk to Rickie. I just need to hear it from him – or Corey."

"Well, I mean, I _do _know a way that you can do that."

I stopped pacing and looked at Rayanne.

"I can totally call Tino right now and he'll be here pronto. Tino can give you – can give _us _a ride to Katimsky's place."

"Then you haven't been there yet today? If Rickie didn't tell you all this, then who did?"

Rayanne shrugged. "I ran into him and some other guys at a show last night. Rickie stayed the night and then went off somewhere in the morning and told me to meet him at that old playground for lunch. He even brought take-out. And then we like, had a heart-to-heart."

I ran my fingers through my hair. "So what does that mean? Does that mean that he, like, found out some time between morning and lunch?"

"Look, I'll go call Tino." She began walking out the door.

"No, Rayanne, wait," I grabbed her arm and she spun around. And then my breath caught and I didn't know what to say. What had I done? How could things have possibly gone more wrong?

Rayanne seemed to sense my thoughts. She gave me a reassuring look and then left the door swinging behind her.


	5. Rickie

Installment Five: **Rickie**

"Gee whiz, Enrique, it doesn't have to be like that," Mr. Katimsky was saying. It's weird. Even though I've lived with Richard for like three months, I still call him Mr. Katimsky – and he _still _calls me Enrique. "You'll be able to go to school and then when you have time off you can take the train into Pittsburgh and see your friends."

I smiled at Mr. Katimsky because I knew he was trying to make my decision easier. "But, Mr. Katimsky, you know that if I move to New York, it won't be like that. Not between me and my friends. Not anymore."

"Well look, Enrique, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. And I'm certainly not trying to uproot you from your hometown and your friends. I'm sure you would have a place to," long pause, "stay. Just think about it some more. It's whatever you want to do." He patted me on the back and then got up from the couch and left the living room.

I sighed and sank into the overstuffed couch. I thought about how nice Mr. Katimsky and Rainer had been to me. How nice their apartment was. How good it smelled and how nice it was. How Mr. Katimsky had sacrificed his job for me. How he like genuinely wanted me to come with him – to be a part of his family. I must've fallen asleep on the couch because all the sudden I smelled dinner cooking in the kitchen and there was a knock at the door.

I came to and I heard Mr. Katimsky and Rainer talking and laughing in the kitchen. I got up and went to the door.

"Angela," long pause, "Rayanne."

Rayanne seemed to smile. I was in like, shock. "Angela and Rayanne together. Hi."

"Yeah, well don't think it means anything," Angela said, not looking me in the eyes, "We're just here to get a story out of you and stop you from going to New York. Rickie, I don't know how you found about Brian, but…" I stopped her right there.

"Wait, I don't think we're on the same page. How did you guys get here?"

"Tino," Rayanne said with a nod of head.

"Come in," I motioned for the couch.

Rayanne bounced into the house, still talking: "So like, _as_ Angela was saying, we don't know where you found out about Brian Krakow, or if it really, you know, goes into why you want to move to New York, but Rickie it's – it's just…"

I shook my head. Angela came in and sat down on the couch. Rayanne sat down, too. I saw Rainer poke his head into the living room and smile.

I stood. "Look. Angela, Rayanne, I haven't made my decision yet. I did find out about Corey and Brian – from, uh, Delia. She thought I had to know…"

"Oh god," Rayanne said, putting her hand to her forehead, disgusted.

"No, listen Rayanne." I sighed and then continued, "I know the rumor was probably blown way out of proportion and the version I heard probably isn't really what happened…"

"Oh! Yeah, no, Rickie. I was there! See, I _know _for sure what went on. Which was nothing. I mean, I wasn't really _there_ there, but I definitely know the true story."

I put my hand up to Rayanne again. "Look, I _get _that. I'm sure it was nothing. I'm not prepared to be melodramatic about it. But – Well, me and Corey talked about it. We were on, like, the verge of breaking up anyway. And I don't _know _if I'm going to New York with Mr. Katimsky. But I have these…problems. See, New York would have a lot of…opportunities. And I just don't know where I would stay if I stayed here. But, like I said, I haven't really made my…decision."

Rayanne smiled. "Jeez, you're even starting to _sound _like him."

I crossed my arms and frowned. Nothing was easy.

"…Like Mr. Katimsky," Rayanne assured.

Finally it was Angela's turn to speak up. She was shaking her head side to side and making this face that she sometimes makes when she's on the verge of, like, crying.

"Rickie, this whole thing is my fault."

Rayanne sunk into the couch. I thought about it for a bit but couldn't piece together how in the world any of this could be Angela's fault.

"See, _Brian Krakow _isn't even gay. And he's my neighbor. Well," nervous laughter, "You know all that. But the thing of it is – the thing of is is that it was _me _Brian told. Only me. And he was, like, really scared about it. And so I told my mother. But I swear I didn't think anything would come of it. I mean, she's my _mother._"

I gave Angela a hug. I gave her one of those hugs that says, 'I would never, ever leave you because I know the way you are, and I love the way you are,' or something. I didn't want her to think that I blamed her.

* * *

I decided to walk into the Lit. class and then stopped myself. I'm always doing that. Like, making decisions that I take back at the last minute. I wrapped my arm around the doorway. There were only a few kids in class – it was early. But Angela was one of them. I don't know if you know her, but she's the kind of person that you can just _watch. _Every move she makes seems to have a purpose. It's almost like she believes every tiny thing she does affects, like, everything.

Anyway, at this moment she was reading a book. 'That's a good start,' I thought, and I sighed and walked up to her desk.

"Hey, watcha reading?" I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. I plopped down on the front of her desk.

She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Hey, Rickie. Um, it's just this book that a friend gave me. 'Giovanni's Room.' It's James Baldwin. You would probably like it."

I nodded and looked around the room. My eyes wandered everywhere except directly at her. "So, are you excited about the first day of school?" I finally asked.

"Well, I dunno. Not really I guess. Why, are you – I mean, I didn't know we had English together."

"Oh, yeah, no, we don't. Actually, I'm not even enrolled in school."

"What?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna be going to Liberty – this year at least. I'm moving to New York in a week. I thought that, you know, that you should be the first to know." I swallowed.

Angela stood up. Before she could say anything I said, "And I'm gonna go tell Corey next. I just don't want you to think that you had anything to do with my decision and to tell you how much I'll, like, _miss _you, or whatever."

"Well then – then _why, _Rickie? If not because of Corey, then why?" she said, continually running her hand through her hair.

I didn't answer for a while and then, with all the caution in the world, I said: "In all honesty, I just – I mean I kind of felt responsible for Mr. Katimsky losing his job. I mean, I totally know it's not my fault, but there's something in me that's like, if I never existed, if I was never this problem for him to solve, he would still be working here."

"Rickie, that's rid…"

I interrupted her – I couldn't help myself. "And Katimsky and Rainer are always telling me how happy they would be if I came with them. And they're like my family now, you know? Like my parents. And then of course there's the prospect of getting out of Three Rivers and actually getting to see – I mean, _live in, _New York. I'm just really excited."

Angela was beginning to cry. And the teacher was entering the room. "Oh, Rickie. I just get the feeling that you're doing this for all the wrong reasons."

I shook my head and felt the tears welling up, too. I stood and gave her a hug.

As she cried silently into my shoulder I said: "No, Angela. And I just wanted to tell you also that you were and are my best friend and I love you – you, Rayanne and Corey – so much. And I'll always write and I'll always visit and we'll all be best friends forever. Oh, and we're having a going away party at Let's Bolt on Friday. So, you know, you have to come. And bring your Jordan so I can say goodbye to him too. God, I used to have such a _crush _on him!" I laughed, "Anyway, I'm rambling now. But you have a class. So I'll go find Corey and drag him out of class." She pulled away from me and wiped her eyes. She was smiling – a little, at least. "Look for me at the end of the day, okay?" I winked at her and bolted out of the classroom.

It wasn't until later that I found Corey to tell him. I'll always remember the way he looked at me. See, he has these really blue eyes that always have this look in them like he doesn't quite understand what you're saying.

"I can't help but say – I think you're making the wrong choice. But I know you'll do what you want, so…"

He really knows how to frustrate me. "God! Do you still think this is about you and Brian?" I exclaimed, laughing a little at how ridiculous it all was.

He shook his head solemnly. "No."

"I know what you're like, Corey. You think I don't? I probably know you better than I know anyone."

"I'm that easy to get, huh?"

I looked down at his painted shoes and smiled. We were in the boiler room. The boiler room is legendary. Personally, I didn't see the attraction. But I'd never really been _in _the boiler room before.

"I just mean that – well, at first I _was _hurt when I heard that you kissed Brian Krakow. At first, I was like, why _Brian_? How could Corey possibly like _Brian _better than me? But then I heard the whole story – or, just thought about it and gathered the whole story. And I just thought, 'Man, I wish I could've been there. It must have been so awkward.' And I kind of chuckled about it. It's like, almost _funny_ to me now. And I've accepted, like I told you before, that we weren't really meant to be boyfriends. We were meant to be friends. Maybe you were meant to be my crush, but I think that's the extent of it."

Now Corey laughed at said, "Yeah, we would be really good friends, wouldn't we? I mean, we have a lot in common."

I smiled, kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Let's Bolt on Friday. I hope you can make it."

And that was my first and only experience in the boiler room. That was the whole thing.

* * *

When I walked across the football field of Liberty High School at three o'clock that afternoon and saw Angela Chase and Rayanne Graff sitting side by side on the bleachers, I thought I was going to cry again. It looked just like old times. Getting closer, I noticed that Rayanne's lips were pursed and one of her eyebrows shot straight up. This time, I did cry. Just a few tears. But I couldn't swat them away before Rayanne saw.

"Vasquez!" she shouted, standing straight up.

"I know, I know," I said, shaking my head and walking up the bleachers.

"This is a time in your life when you need to be a man!" she shouted. Then she smiled.

I laughed and then grabbed Rayanne and spun her around.

"Out of all of my friends, I think it's you two I'll miss the most," I exclaimed in a southern belle's drawl. And then I dramatically flung the back of my hand over my forehead and fell down on Angela's lap. She was laughing.

"It's gonna be drama club that'll miss _you _the most," she said.

"Ah, but Angela," I said, still laying on her lap and looking up into her eyes, "You seem to forget that I'm taking the drama club with me."

She had a very concerned look on her face for a second, but was suddenly back to her old, happy self.

"God, Rickie, you are going to have _so _much fun in New York! You're gonna get to see the Statue of Liberty. You're gonna be able to see shows on Broadway!" Angela could hardly contain her excitement for me.

"But it's gonna suck," Rayanne whispered, sneaking up behind me, "Because you're gonna have to experience that all by yourself."

I frowned and then sat up. "No. You girls'll be with me a spirit."

Angela's eyes got wide, "Enrique, how cheesy can you get?"

I laughed. "Okay, okay. But promise you'll come visit. Promise. Because, like, I don't _want _to experience anything great without you."

Rayanne began walking up and down the bleacher seats, balancing with her arms out. She couldn't just like, stay still, for one second.

"I was kidding, Vasquez," she said, turning around to walk towards Angela and I, "Of course you'll make friends wherever you go."

"No, Rayanne. You're that kind of person, not me."

"Yeah, but in the big city," Angela piped in, "Well, how could you _not _make friends? Like, people are way more open-minded there."

Rayanne shrieked and jumped down off the seats. She ran over to me and grabbed me by my shirt. "Rickie!" she squealed, "When I come visit you _have _to take me to a _gay bar_!"

I chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that would be a time," I said. I couldn't see it.

Rayanne slowly turned to Angela.

"Would that not be a time, Angela?"

Just as Angela was opening her mouth to reply to Rayanne, Jordan Catalano – hands in his pockets, squinting eyes, indifferent look, jeans chain, the whole deal – starting walking up the bleachers toward us.

Rayanne pulled her purse toward her body and spun around like she was looking for some sort of emergency exit.

"I gotta go, uh – I have this, like, song that I'm writing with the girls that I have to, like, finish writing, or whatever. So, I'll see you gu-," and then Rayanne was gone as quick as anything.

Angela stood up and the sunlight hit her hair and face just right. She was shining.

"Jordan…" she said, inviting him into our conversation.

"Hey Angela. Hey Rickie." Jordan seemed to cringe as he looked at her - maybe from the brightness or whatever.

I merely smiled.

"So what's up?" Angela asked. Jordan was standing in front of her, one knee propped up on the metal bleacher.

Jordan looked around, as if he was looking for Rayanne or somebody who'd just left. Angela showed no signs of realizing that Rayanne even existed. I wondered how that would work if Angela and Rayanne became friends again - if my leaving forced them to better support each other - and Angela continued to go out with Jordan. They'd never be able to be in the same room together? All I knew was, it would be a catastrophe, much like the year had already been, and I was glad I wasn't going to be here for it.

"It's nothing…" Jordan's mind seemed to be wandering, "I wasn't sure if you…"

"If I what, Jordan?" Angela seemed genuinely concerned. I smiled, looking at the two. Had they even, like, hung out over the summer?

"If you needed a ride home." Jordan finished, more confident now, his squinting eyes towards the sun and Angela.

"Oh, right," Angela said with a chuckle as she gathered her purse and backpack.

"Bye, Rickie," she said to me as she walked away with Jordan Catalano, "See you Friday."

I smiled and waved. I could hear Angela telling Jordan about the party at Let's Bolt as they walked towards the parking lot. I realized that both of them had something different on their minds. It seemed to me that Angela had, like, loads on her mind. I contemplated calling her later to get the full scoop - she's one of those people that gives off this aura of emotion - at every turn I wanted to know how she was feeling. As Rayanne's mom might say: "Her soul is just brutally honest."


	6. Jordan

Installment Six: **Jordan**

I don't know how to tell her. She's gonna think I want to, like, see other people or whatever. Or she'll think it's because she wouldn't sleep with me. That's just the way she thinks- I know it. She'll think it's something she did. It's not like I'm gonna figure out a way to make her think any different. If I tell the truth – that I just need time to think, she'll never believe it. Maybe I'll say something like: "It's just with school being back in…" but then I'll end up biting my lower lip and looking at some other girl's ass as she walks down the hallway or whatever. And Angela will, like, read that as 'breaking up to go screw other people.' It's not like I even want to break up with her. I just can't see her or be near her for a while. I can't even take seeing that face that she makes – the face that she'll make when I try to tell her all of this.

See, what happened was we went to a party together, and then we both, like wanted to leave at the same time. I acted like I was gonna drive her home, but instead I drove to my house and I got out of the car and she got out of the car. She was acting like it was totally no big deal so I started kissing her. And she kept doing this thing where she would pull away from the kissing and look at my eyes – like look _into _my eyes and then start kissing me again. Like there was something in my eyes that reassured her, or whatever, that what we were doing was okay.

And I remember pushing her against the electric garage door opener and the garage closing and the light going on. And all the sudden she was taking my pants off and putting me in her mouth and I never even said anything. It was silent. And she made me feel, this like, _feeling_. This feeling that I've never felt with any other girl before. I mean, like, what she was doing felt just as good as it had any other time, but she made it seem like a _happy _thing. Like where I was was _exactly_ where I was supposed to be or something. And when it was done I sighed and hugged her to my chest but I couldn't tell how she was feeling. Then I drove her home. She kept looking at my like she wanted me to smile, but I couldn't – not while she was looking at me like that.

That was, like, four days ago. We're meeting in the boiler room Monday during Chem. I'm not sure if I want to tell her there or just leave a note in her locker. I'm not even sure if this has anything to do with what happened. It's, like, really weird to not be sure of how you're feeling. Do you ever feel that?

* * *

**a/n: it's been awhile, so i'll hit ya with two, albeit short, chapters. enjoy, review, all that nonsense :)**


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